What Happens, Happens
by Zebediah
Summary: In the year 2016, Walt leads a new group of people to the Island, where Hugo has a plan. Meanwhile, the Island isn't through with some old friends yet. Follows "The New Man in Charge"; possible spoilers.
1. Have Faith

_**What Happens, Happens**_

**Chapter 1  
****December 27, 2016**

Benjamin Linus knelt by the grave of his adopted daughter and laid a small bouquet of wildflowers on it. "I'm sorry, Alex," he whispered softly.

A large but gentle hand came down on his shoulder. Hugo Reyes looked down at him, his deep brown eyes filled with concern.

"Dude, she knows," Hugo said.

Ben swallowed hard, and then said, "I just wish I could forgive myself. It should have been me, not her."

Hugo nodded. "I could, you know, let you talk to her..."

Ben's head whipped up, and his face hardened. "_No_," he said firmly. "No. I can't... Hugo, please don't ever suggest that again."

"Okay, Ben," Hugo said. "But it might do you some good."

Ben closed his eyes. "She would have been twenty-eight years old now" he said. "Such a beautiful girl..."

The two men said nothing for a long moment. A bird calling out from the jungle was the only thing that broke the silence.

Then a breeze stirred the trees, and a faint whispering sound filled the air. Hugo looked around, and his eyes widened a bit.

"Uh, I'll leave you with Alex for a bit, then," Hugo said. "There's somebody I need to talk to over there."

Ben said nothing as Hugo walked away. He was familiar enough with Hugo's tendency to speak to people who weren't visible to anyone else that he accepted it without comment.

Hugo crossed the central square of the former Dharma Initiative barracks, stopping by the edge of the jungle. "Dude," he said. "Long time."

"Hey, Hurley," the ghost of Michael Dawson answered from the shadows. "How's it going?"

"Same as always, dude. Where you been?"

"Looking out for my boy," Michael said. "Doing what I can for him."

"Is Walt okay?" Hurley asked.

Michael sighed. "I don't know why you sent him back, Hurley," he said. "Out there, in the world... It's not like it used to be. It's a dangerous place. Walt's okay, yeah, but he's been in some tight scrapes. You wouldn't believe..." He fixed his eyes on Hurley. "Things have gotten bad out there, man. Really bad."

"That's why I had to send him out there," Hugo said in a slightly apologetic voice. "I mean, who else could do it?"

"Yeah, well..." Michael shrugged. "Anyway, I just wanted to say thanks. For letting me leave the Island, I mean. It helped, being able to watch out for him."

"So," Hugo said, "how come you're back now?"

"Because Walt's on his way back," Michael said.

"Dude, no way!" A grin spread across Hugo's face.

"Yeah, he'll be here by tomorrow. He's got a boat – a small freighter. And he's bringing a lot of people with him."

"Awesome!" Then Hugo looked thoughtful. "I guess I ought to get to the lighthouse and guide them in, huh?"

"I think Walt has that covered," Michael said. "But it couldn't hurt."

"Okay, man," Hugo said. "Look, great seeing you again and all that, but I gotta go..."

"I'll be around," Michael said.

"Right," Hugo said. He turned and jogged back across the compound.

"Ben!" Hugo shouted, causing the kneeling man to look up suddenly. "Get everyone else together. Sorry to interrupt you, dude, but we have work to do."

* * *

**August 30, 2010**

Walt Lloyd stumbled on the rough planking of the dock, causing Hugo to reach out to steady him. "You okay, dude?" Hugo asked.

"Whoa," was all Walt was able to say in reply.

Hugo grinned. "Pretty wild, isn't it?"

Ben glanced back at the small De Havilland floatplane they had just exited, chuckling at the woman who was tying it to the dock. "Actually, I thought that was one of Cindy's _better_ landings."

"Wasn't she just a stewardess?" Walt groaned.

"We got her some flying lessons," Hugo said. "Hey, it's not like we had a lot of people to choose from. There weren't too many people who survived – well, that's a long story."

Walt stopped at the end of the dock. "How many?" he asked.

"There's fifteen of us, altogether," Ben said. "Sixteen, now. Between Locke and Widmore, everyone else was killed."

"Hey, a few got away on the plane," Hugo countered.

"A few," Ben admitted.

Walt stared down at the sand of the beach, as if debating whether or not he really wanted to set foot on the island again. "So who's left, that I'd know?" he asked.

"Off the island?" Ben asked. "Let's see... Kate, Sawyer, Claire, Aaron, Richard... You didn't ever meet Desmond, did you?" Walt shook his head, and Ben continued, "That's all, then. On the island, besides myself, Hugo and Cindy, just Bernard and Rose."

"Who's Bernard?" Walt asked.

"Rose's husband," Hugo explained. "He didn't find his way back to the rest of us until after you left on the raft."

"Oh," Walt said. He continued staring down at the sand.

"Wait, dude," Hugo said with a smile on his face. "There is someone else we forgot to tell you about."

Walt looked up. "Who?"

Hugo turned towards the jungle, raised his fingers to his lips, and let out a piercing whistle. The far-off sound of a dog's bark followed a few seconds later.

Walt's eyes grew wide. "Vincent?" he said, hesitating. He took a step onto the beach.

Then, louder, he called out, _"Vincent?"_

A large yellow dog burst out of the jungle, running at full speed towards Walt. Walt ran towards the dog, and as they met, the dog jumped up into the air, knocking Walt down on the sand. Vincent gleefully licked the young man's face while Walt laughed.

Hugo grinned broadly, watching Walt and the dog roll around playfully in the sand. "Awesome," he whispered.

"Want me to go get everyone else together?" Ben asked quietly.

Hugo shook his head. "Not yet, dude," he said. "Let him have a minute here. He's got a lot of work ahead of him. No need to dump it all on him just yet."

* * *

**December 27, 2016**

"Everybody here?" Hugo asked.

"Everyone I could get," Ben answered. "Bernard and Rose... Well..."

"It's okay, dude," Hugo said. "I didn't expect they'd come."

"We're all here, then," Ben said.

They were gathered on a windswept plateau atop a high, rocky cliff. A stone tower rose into the sky behind Hugo, who stood next to a small campfire.

"Okay, then, all thirteen of us," Hugo said, looking around with a smile at the familiar faces of the Island's inhabitants. He stopped when his gaze fell upon Cindy, and he stared at her curiously. "Um," he said, hesitating, "unless... somebody... has something to tell us?"

Cindy stared at Hugo, and then turned to glance at the man next to her, who nodded. "Well," she began uncertainly, "I've only just realized it myself..." She smiled, and announced, "Lee and I... Well, we're having a baby!"

"Awesome!" Hugo proclaimed, as everyone else gathered round to congratulate them.

"Hugo?" Ben whispered softly into his ear. "Are you sure that's not going to be a problem?"

"Don't worry about it, dude," Hugo whispered back. "Took care of that a while back."

"I see," Ben murmured. "How..."

But Cindy interrupted him before he could complete his question. "And how the devil did _you_ know?" she said to Hugo, though the smile on her face softened her challenging tone.

"Hey, you have to know things like that when you're the dude in charge," Hugo explained. "Anyway, thanks for bringing our lucky number. Now that all _fourteen_ of us are here, there's something I have to tell you about. Walt's coming back. And he's bringing more people with him."

"What?" Cindy asked, at the same time that Ben asked, "How many?"

Hugo held up his hands, quieting everyone else. "I don't know how many yet, I just know it's a lot," he said. "They're on a boat, and they'll be here tomorrow. That's why we're here. We need to light the fire so that they can find there way here." He turned to one of the younger men in the crowd, and said, "Zack, you want to do the honors?"

The young man smiled, and ran inside the lighthouse. A moment later, he emerged with a torch, which he lit in the fire. Then, with a shout, he ran into the tower again. Soon after that, he waved down at them from the tower's top. In less than a minute, flames could be seen coming from the lighthouse, and a line of black smoke rose towards the heavens.

Hugo turned back to his people, and said, "Okay, we need to keep the fire going all night and into tomorrow morning. Don't let it go out until you see a big boat coming in. We're going to need more wood – Lee, can you take care of that? Okay then. Food, too – Vanessa, you got that? Oh, and somebody go tell Bernard and Rose that we're having a party up here. Maybe _that_ will get them to join us."

As everyone headed off to get things ready, Ben sidled up to Hugo again. "I don't mean to be a wet blanket, Hugo, but have you given any thought to how we're going to feed the people Walt's bringing with him?"

"Dude, everything's going to work out," Hugo assured him. "Have a little faith."

"Faith," Ben echoed. He looked doubtful. "I remember having that once." He stared at the column of black smoke rising from the tower. "Faith," he whispered again, too softly for anyone else to hear.


	2. One of a Kind

**Chapter 2  
****December 28, 2016**

"A lot of people," Ben said, looking at the crowd lining the rail of the freighter. "What do you think, about forty?"

"Dude, when are you going to stop worrying so much?" Hugo chided him.

"Looks like at least half of them are kids," Ben added. Then, "I really don't think they're going to make it to the dock."

The freighter was approaching the old DHARMA Initiative submarine dock. As it came alongside, the freighter's hull jerked and groaned; huge flakes of rust fell off the side into the water.

"Told you," Ben said. "They ran aground."

"But they're right next to the dock, dude," Hugo pointed out. "It'll make unloading a lot easier."

As Hugo strode confidently down the dock, a slim young black man leaped the three feet from the boat's rail to the dock. "Walt!" Hugo shouted happily.

"Mission accomplished," Walt said, a big grin on his face.

The ship's crew ran a gangway from the ship's deck to the dock. "Welcome to the Island, everyone," Hugo shouted. "We've got a welcome party set up in the rec center, so just follow Ben here. It's not far."

"A lot of kids," Ben murmured again, as a line formed on the dock. They were a mixed lot, a dozen or so men and women with more than twice as many children. All of them looked underfed.

And then, as Ben saw a slender white-haired woman come down the gangway, he whispered, "Oh, my god..."

The old woman fixed him with a cold stare. "Benjamin," she said curtly.

"Eloise," Ben replied. "This is... unexpected."

"It was time to come back," Eloise Hawking said. "Time to finish what we started so long ago." She turned away from Ben and headed for the beach.

Before he had a chance to recover his equilibrium, Ben heard a voice growl from behind him, "Oh, son of a bitch."

Ben whipped around, and found himself face-to-face with a tall, long-haired man with a graying beard. Ben's eyes went wide. "James," he said unsteadily. "A pleasure to see you again."

"Don't even try it, you bug-eyed bastard," Sawyer snarled at him. "You don't think it's a pleasure to see me, and I sure as hell don't think it's a pleasure to see you. Or to be back on this damned island again." He turned and said, "Come on, Aaron, let's go," and he strode down the dock, a young, blond-haired boy following close behind.

"That's _Aaron_?" Ben called after Sawyer. "But then where's..."

Walt grabbed his arm, interrupting him. "Don't," Walt said quietly. "Whatever you do, _don't_ ask him about Kate."

"What the hell are you two whispering about behind my back?" Sawyer called over his shoulder.

"Dude, Walt was just warning him not to ask you about Kate," Hugo answered.

"_Good!"_ Sawyer said. "He'd damned well better take Walt's advice."

"Well, I see James hasn't mellowed with age," Ben said. "Where did you find him?"

"Long story," Walt said with a sigh.

**

* * *

**

July 9, 2016

The refugee camp's office was in a battered mobile home, in the middle of a parched field near a dried-up irrigation canal that ran through what had once been a farm near Fresno. The stench of unwashed bodies and untreated sewage assaulted Walt's nostrils. Hardly anything moved in the midday heat. Walt would have expected, at the very least, to hear the buzzing of flies, but the camp was ominously silent.

He walked through the open door of the office, blinking to let his eyes adjust to the dimness inside. "Excuse me?" he said.

A tired-looking middle-aged woman stirred behind a desk. "Yes?"

"Ma'am? My name's Walt Lloyd. I'm a private investigator. Are you the director of this camp?"

"That's me," the woman said. "What can I do for you, Mr. Lloyd?"

"I'm looking for a boy named Aaron Austin. Eleven years old, blonde hair, blue eyes – I've been hired by his grandmother to locate him. I have information that he might possibly be in your camp."

"Possibly," the woman said, reaching for a three-ring binder. "I can check the roster..." She opened the binder and leafed through the first couple of pages. "Oh, here he is," she said. "He's one of LaFleur's kids."

"LaFleur's kids?" Walt repeated.

The director nodded. "There's a guy named LaFleur, I think he's ex-LAPD – anyway, he looks after all of the kids in camp who don't have any family left to care for them. Keeps them fed, makes sure nobody exploits them."

"Oh, he's part of your staff?"

The woman shook her head. "Just a refugee from L.A. who took the job on. I'd pay him a salary if I could, but..." She sighed. "I have five thousand people to look after in this camp, not enough food, not nearly enough water, no medical supplies. If it weren't for people like LaFleur, this place would fall apart."

"So this guy could help me find the kid?"

"He could," the director said. "But, Mr. Lloyd – you're going to have to convince him that you are what you say you are. He's not somebody you want to cross. He lies, he steals, he cons people out of their food – he does whatever he has to do to make sure the kids have enough to eat and drink. He's completely unscrupulous, but he's _very_ protective of the children. People who try to mess with them have a way of – disappearing."

Walt nodded. "I'll remember that. Where can I find him?"

The camp was at least easy to navigate; it had been laid out on a grid in the old fields. LaFleur's tent was on the north side of the camp, near the high razor-wire fence that separated the refugees from the outside world. A few scrawny children were playing in the dust next to it; they eyed him suspiciously.

"Mr. LaFleur?" Walt called out.

"Yeah, what is it?" a voice answered from inside the tent.

"Mr. LaFleur, my name is Walt Lloyd. I'm a private investigator. I'm looking for a child..."

But before he could finish, the man in the tent interrupted him. "_What_ did you say your name was?" He poked his head out, and when he saw Walt, his jaw dropped in astonishment. "Son of a bitch," he whispered. "Walt."

Walt was equally astonished. "Mister _Sawyer_?"

Sawyer burst out of the tent and grabbed Walt, lifting him off of the ground in a bear hug. "Goddamn," he said happily. "You little bastard. Where the hell did you come from?"

"Long, long story," Walt said. "I guess I ought to call you 'LaFleur' here?"

Sawyer nodded. "Jim LaFleur," he said. "Another long story. So what brings you to this god-forsaken hellhole?"

Walt shrugged. "To be honest, I was looking for Aaron. I was told I could find him here. I had no idea _you_ were here too."

"Yeah, Aaron's with me," Sawyer said. _"Aaron!"_ he called.

A skinny kid with unkempt blonde hair peeked out of a nearby tent. "Yeah?" He looked Walt over. "Hey, Uncle Jim, who's this guy?"

"Hello, Aaron," Walt said. "You probably don't remember me – last time I saw you, you were just a baby."

"Oh," Aaron said. And then, "Hey, aren't you one of the guys who went away on the raft?"

"You told him about that, huh?" Walt said to Sawyer.

"No, I didn't," Sawyer said.

"But..." Walt began. "You mean, he _remembers_ it? He was, like, four days old when that happened."

"Don't ask me how he does it. That kid..." Sawyer seemed at a loss for words.

"Is special," Walt finished for him.

"Yeah," Sawyer said, looking at Aaron. "Special. One of a kind."

"No wonder Hurley wanted me to find him," Walt said.

Sawyer's head whipped around towards Walt. _"What?"_ he snapped. "Hurley was still on that damned Island, last I heard."

Walt nodded. "We need to talk."

Sawyer was not the least bit pleased when Walt explained what he had in mind. "You want to take that boy _back_ to that place?" he said. "No. Absolutely not. Over my dead body. Walt, we go back a long way, but if you take that kid, so help me, I'll leave your body for the dogs to eat."

"You really think," Walt challenged him, "that the Island would be _worse_ than this place?"

"I lived there a hell of a lot longer than you did," Sawyer answered. "You know how many people died during that time?"

"I've lived there almost six years," Walt said. "_Nobody_ has died since Hurley took over. It's a different place now, Sawyer."

"_Hugo_ is in charge," Sawyer said, incredulous. "Son of a bitch."

"Look, man, I've been traveling around for six months now," Walt said. "I've been _in_ Los Angeles – I saw what's left of it. From what I hear, the rest of the world's not far from crashing down the same way. Another year or two, if you stay here, this place..." he waved his arms around, "might be something you actually look back at fondly. If you're still alive."

Sawyer said nothing, so Walt went on. "Or, you can come with me. We have enough food on the Island, we're at peace, and the outside world can't touch us. Where do you really think Aaron would be better off? Where do you think _you_ would be better off?"

Sawyer grumbled under his breath. "I hear you, Walt. I don't like it, but..." He sighed. "I get what you're saying. All right, maybe Aaron would be better off there. But what about these other kids? Who looks after them if I go? I can't just leave them here to starve. Which is what would happen."

Walt shrugged. "Bring them too."

Sawyer just stared at him. "There's almost thirty of them."

"Bring them," Walt repeated. "It's a big island."

**

* * *

**

December 28, 2016

The welcome party at the rec center was in full swing when Hugo heard someone behind him say, "Hugo, what the _hell_ were you thinking?"

Hugo turned away from the buffet table to see Rose glaring at him. "Hey, Rose!" he said. "Glad you could join us!"

"Don't start," Rose snapped. "You know what I'm talking about. All these kids! What were you thinking, having Walt bring them here?"

Hugo shrugged. All around him, the new arrivals were intent on stuffing themselves. "Rose, most of them spent the last few years in a refugee camp, with hardly anything to eat. They're a lot better off here."

"Refugee camp," Rose repeated, her skepticism obvious.

"That's right, Big Mama," said a voice from a corner of the room. "A refugee camp, outside of Fresno."

Rose whirled around, seeing Sawyer for the first time. "Oh, my Lord..." she gasped.

Sawyer smiled faintly. "Nice to see you too."

"James? But..." Rose sputtered in confusion. "A refugee camp in _Fresno_?"

"World ain't what it used to be," Sawyer said. "Hope you didn't have any family or friends in southern California, because if you did..." He shook his head sadly.

"Oh," Rose said, taken aback. "That bad? Really?"

"You really think I'd come back here if I had a better place to go?"

Rose lowered herself into a chair. "I suppose..." She looked at Hugo again. "I still think it's a bad idea."

"Dude, it's okay," Hugo told her. "It'll work out. Trust me."

"Still, though," said Ben, joining them, "there remains the problem of how to feed them all. Our supplies will be gone pretty quickly."

"Now _that_ we have covered," Sawyer said. "The ship is full of food."

"Really?" Ben asked. "How did you manage that?"

"Well now, I happened to know that back in the 1970s, the DHARMA Initiative had a logistics center in Guam," Sawyer told him, grinning. "It's where they set up the supply drops. So we took a little side trip to go shopping on the way here."

"But..." Ben looked alarmed. "That place was shut down years ago."

"Still there, though," Sawyer said. "Found them in the phone book, believe it or not – DHARMA Logistics, right next to the port. Big warehouse, stuffed full of food, equipment, medical supplies, you name it, all there for the taking."

"Well, that's certainly a relief," Rose said.

"Yes," Ben said. "It certainly is." But his face was full of doubt.


	3. New Rules

**Chapter 3  
****December 29, 2016**

Ben Linus set down a case of six #10 food cans, each bearing the DHARMA Initiative logo and the words "GREEN BEANS", on a table in the welcome center, and sat down wearily beside it. Every muscle ached, and he was soaked in sweat. "At this rate," he groaned, "it's going to take us a week to unload the freighter.

"So I take it you've decided we won't starve," Eloise Hawking said, walking up beside him, carrying a clipboard. She made a mark, and nodded in satisfaction. The room was beginning to fill up with all kinds of food and equipment as the Islanders unloaded supplies from the boat, and she was taking a detailed inventory.

"No, we'll be eating well for the next three or four years," Ben agreed. "That's not what worries me."

"No?" Eloise raised an eyebrow. "What does concern you, then?"

"This does." He pulled one of the large cans out of the case, and set it on the table. He tapped a finger on the lid.

"I'm afraid I don't follow you, Benjamin," Eloise told him.

"They stamp the date of manufacture on the top," Ben said. "Look at it."

Eloise stared down at it. The numbers on the lid read "08.15.16".

"But that's..." she began.

"August 15, 2016," Ben said. " Four months ago. These aren't leftover supplies from the old DHARMA Initiative warehouse. These are new."

"Oh," Eloise said softly. "I see."

"I started to wonder when James said that the warehouse in Guam was next to the port," Ben continued. "The old one, the one I shut down six years ago, was closer to the airfield. It's not the same place. And James said there was more in the warehouse than they could fit in the freighter."

Eloise pursed her lips. "They never did anything small, no."

"So you see where I'm going with this," Ben prompted.

"Oh yes. It's quite obvious, and in retrospect we probably should have expected something like this."

"What do you mean?"

"Benjamin, I don't think you full appreciate just how... unstable things have become in the outside world," Eloise explained. "The global economy is collapsing. Half of the world is in chaos, and the other half only a step away from it. And prospects for the future are even worse." She sat down beside Ben and sighed. "Given all of that, is it any wonder that people would be looking for a place where they could escape from the whole mess?"

Ben stared at her thoughtfully. "Is that what brought you back here, Eloise?"

She fixed her eyes on his and said, "Do you really think I would have returned to this island if I'd had any other place to go?"

**

* * *

**

August 15, 2016

Sawyer cradled his gun in his arms and looked around nervously at the ruined buildings that lined the street. Walt, a few yards in front of him, seemed less concerned; he strode confidently down the rubble-strewn pavement.

"You sure this is such a good idea?" Sawyer said. "Coming in here in broad daylight like this? If any of the gangs find us..."

"The gangs won't be a problem," Walt assured him. "The dogs are a bigger worry. There's packs of them, and the ones that survived are pretty vicious. And they hunt at night."

"Great," Sawyer muttered.

"But the real problem," Walt went on, "is the rats. There's more of them, and they carry the plague."

"Plague?" Sawyer repeated, sounding anxious.

"But we only have a few more blocks to go," Walt told him.

The ruins of Los Angeles rose around them. There was hardly a building left intact, and many of them showed signs of having burned. Cars obstructed the street randomly, and more than a few of them had nearly-mummified corpses behind their steering wheels.

"Aaron and I were lucky to get out of this place the first time," Sawyer said to himself.

"Relax, man" Walt said. "Almost there."

But they both froze in their tracks when they heard a loud snarl from in front of them. A large dog, with a scarred face and ragged ears, blocked the street a dozen yards ahead.

"Great," Sawyer said, raising his gun.

"Hold it," Walt said, waving his hand at Sawyer. "Don't shoot unless it charges."

Walt locked eyes with the dog, and the two stared at each other for a tense minute. The dog slowly backed off, then turned tail and ran into the rubble.

"What the hell was that?" Sawyer asked. "Jedi mind trick?"

Walt grinned. "Hey, I was always good with dogs."

"Right," Sawyer said, shaking his head in disbelief. "Well, lead on, Obi-Wan."

"Mace," Walt corrected.

"Huh?"

"Mace Windu. The black Jedi. Samuel L. Jackson played him."

"Whatever. Let's get this over with."

"We're here," Walt said a minute later.

They stood in front of an old brick church; its steeple had collapsed into the parking lot beside it, but most of the roof looked intact. Sawyer followed Walt into the dark interior; he kept his rifle ready while Walt fished a flashlight out of his pack.

"This way," Walt said.

Walt led him to the back of the church, and down a flight of stairs to the basement. "Eloise?" he called out.

"Back here," said a voice from the darkness behind them.

Sawyer spun around and raised his rifle. In the shadows, he saw a white-haired woman pointing a shotgun at him.

"No, Mister LaFleur, put the gun down," Eloise Hawking commanded. "You got the drop on me _once_ – not this time."

"It's okay, Sawyer," Walt said. "I know her."

Sawyer lowered the gun, and stared at her. "And it seems she knows me," he said, "but I'm damned if I remember..."

"It was a long time ago," the old woman said, coming closer to them. "Though longer for me than for you, I suspect."

"Right," Sawyer said. "If you're calling me 'LaFleur', you must have known me back in the 1970s."

"Earlier than that," Eloise said. "We first met in 1954."

"Oh," Sawyer said. Then his eyes widened. "You're _Ellie_? The blonde chick who was with the Others?"

"The same," Eloise said. "The years have treated you kindly, LaFleur."

"Oh, son of a bitch," Sawyer muttered.

"Don't worry, LaFleur, I don't hold a grudge," Eloise said. "Even over the fact that you were staring at my breasts the whole time you had me captive."

Sawyer grinned. "They were worth checking out."

"Lecherous old man," Eloise chided, although her eyes hinted that she wasn't as offended as she was pretending to be. "At any rate, you did your part to maintain the truce we had with the DHARMA Initiative during your time with them, so I'll let bygones be bygones. What matters now is what you intend next."

"I found Aaron," Walt said. "In a refugee camp, like you said. Sawyer – LaFleur – was taking care of him."

"Indeed. And where is the boy now?"

"He's safe," Sawyer told her. "We left him and a bunch of other kids with – a friend. We didn't want to bring him here."

"_He_ didn't want to bring Aaron here," Walt corrected. "I still say we'd have all been safer if he'd come along."

"Uh-uh," Sawyer insisted. "I was _not_ taking that boy into the middle of this hell-hole. Not for anything."

"Be that as it may," Eloise said, "he's alive, and in safe hands. Do you still intend to follow through with your plan?"

Walt nodded. Sawyer grimaced, but added, "Yeah."

"Very well then." Eloise looked pleased. "I have a few things to pack."

"Pack?" Sawyer asked.

"Of course. I've completed my task here," she explained, "and I have a feeling that you're going to need me if you're to have any hope of doing _your_ part. So I'm coming with you."

**

* * *

**

December 29, 2016

The two boys did their best to act normally as they crossed the barracks compound, looking for a hidden spot. The dark-haired boy pointed towards the open door of the old security office, and the blonde one nodded in agreement. They dashed inside, then found a dark corner out of sight of the doorway. But then they stopped short; two other people were already there.

"Dudes," Hugo said in greeting.

"Aaron. David," Sawyer said, giving them a curious glance. "What are you two up to?"

They said nothing in reply, doing their best to look innocent. Sawyer, naturally, wasn't fooled for a moment. "What do you have there, Aaron?" he asked.

Aaron said nothing, but held out the jar he held cradled under one arm. Its label read "PEANUT BUTTER".

Sawyer nodded. "Your mom liked that stuff," he said quietly.

"But dudes," Hugo added, "you don't have to steal it. There's plenty to go around."

When he saw the worried expressions on the boys' faces, Sawyer shook his head. "It's probably my fault, Hugo," he said. "In the camp, I taught them to sneak extra food whenever they could. Hell, the camp kitchen didn't give them enough to feed a mouse."

"Okay, I get that." Hugo, much to the boys' surprise, didn't seem angry. "But dudes? This is a different place, right? This is my island, and I make the rules here. And rule number one is: Everybody gets enough to eat."

"Oh," David said. "Yeah, I guess so."

"Dude, is that a fat joke?" Hugo asked, grinning.

"He's not as fat as he used to be," Aaron told his friend.

"Boy's right," Sawyer said. "Hugo, you're positively trim compared to when I first met you. Didn't you wonder why I wasn't calling you 'Jumbotron'?"

Hugo laughed. "Dude, it's all Rose's fault. She put me on a diet. I've lost about a hundred pounds in the last few years. Besides," he added, "eating's what I do when I'm unhappy. I was pretty messed up, back then."

Sawyer nodded in understanding. "Yeah. I guess I get that." He hesitated a moment, then added, "Me, I steal stuff when I'm unhappy."

"Yeah, well, dude, I've got the perfect answer to that." Sawyer just gave him a questioning look, so Hugo continued, "You were, like, the sheriff when you were with the DHARMA Initiative, right? Well, guess what? You've got your old job back."

"What's that mean?" Aaron asked.

Sawyer laughed. "That means," he explained, "that if you boys steal anything else, _I'm_ the one who comes after you about it."

Hugo's grin got wider, and he said, "So, you guys are, like, in big trouble now."

The two boys glanced at each other. David coughed, and then asked, "Uh, you're not going to send us back, are you?"

"Send you back?" Sawyer looked stunned. "You mean, back to the refugee camp? For stealing a jar of _peanut butter_?"

"Dudes, new rule," Hugo announced. "Nobody gets sent off the Island. Well, not permanently, anyway. Sometimes I need people to go do jobs for me. But this is your home now, dudes." He smiled. "You may not realize it yet, but there's a reason you're here. There's a reason that _everyone_ is here. It's all part of the big picture. So don't worry. Just, like, don't steal any more food, okay? Valerie runs the kitchen here, she's cool, you just have to ask her."

The two boys sighed in relief. "Okay, Mr. Hurley," David said.

"Just 'Hurley', dude. Or 'Hugo'."

"So what are _you_ guys doing here?" Aaron asked.

Sawyer frowned. "Boys, believe me, you'll find out, the same time as everyone else. Not before, though."

Aaron and David both nodded. They knew better than to press Sawyer for an answer he wasn't ready to give.


	4. Karma

**Chapter 4  
****December 30, 2016**

"We're running short of milk," Walt said. "All these kids... It's more than the two cows we have can give."

"There's plenty of cows running wild all over the Island," Hugo pointed out. "We just need to round some more up, that's all."

Sawyer laughed. "What, we're going to be cowboys now?"

"Dude, you'd be an awesome cowboy," Hugo said, grinning hugely.

"Never even been on a horse," Sawyer admitted.

"Always time to learn, man," Walt said. "I did."

"Maybe later," Sawyer said. "Right now I just want to see this lighthouse of yours."

The three men trekked through a field of tall grass towards the north side of the Island, Walt in the lead. Suddenly, the young man stopped dead in his tracks. "What the hell?" he said.

"Whoa," Hugo whispered. "Do you see that?"

"See what?" Sawyer asked, staring ahead.

"The wheelchair," Walt said.

"What wheelchair?" Sawyer demanded.

"You don't see it?" Walt asked.

"Dude," Hugo said, "do you see who's _in_ it?"

Walt shook his head. "There's nobody in it."

"What the hell are you two talking about?" Sawyer looked from one to the other. "There's nothing there!"

"It's okay, dude," Hugo said quietly. "I know why you can't see him. He's dead."

"What?" Sawyer looked at Hugo in disbelief. "Oh, for God's sake," he said. "Don't tell me you see dead people too."

"So who is it?" Walt asked.

"Locke," Hurley said.

"Oh." Walt nodded. "That makes sense, then."

"How the hell does _that_ make sense?"

"Locke was paralyzed before the plane crash," Walt explained. "He was in a wheelchair."

"Son of a..." Sawyer threw his hands up in exasperation. "Whatever. Go talk to him, see what he wants. Just make sure it's the right damned Locke."

"Oh, it's the right one, dude," Hugo said. "The other one? He's dead and gone."

"So's this one," Sawyer pointed out. "And ask him what the hell a ghost is doing in a damned wheelchair, anyway."

Hugo ignored him, and walked forward until he was standing next to the bald man in the wheelchair.

"Hello, Hugo," Locke said with a smile.

"Hey, Locke," Hugo answered. "Long time, dude."

"Yes, it certainly has been," Locke said. "Tell James that the chair is... karma. It's a kind of atonement for all of my sins." He smiled. "It's not, but James wouldn't understand the real reason."

"So, like, what are you doing here?"

"I followed Aaron," Locke answered. "I've been keeping an eye out for him, whenever I can. I sort of owe it to his mother, after what the creature that took my image did to her."

Hugo nodded. "Okay," he said slowly. "So, here you are."

Locke laughed. "Not for long, though. Now that Aaron's back here, I feel like it's getting near my time to move on. I just needed to warn you about something before I went."

"So, what is it?"

"They're coming, Hugo."

"What, you mean the DHARMA Initiative?"

Locke nodded. "They want the Island back. I think they mean to take it all this time."

"Yeah, we sort of figured that out," Hugo said.

"One step ahead of me, Hugo?" Locke gave him a friendly smile. "I'd never have believed it, but authority suits you."

"I kind of grew into the job," Hugo said, bringing a laugh from Locke.

"I'll leave you to it, then," Locke said. "Say hi to Walt for me. He's grown into quite the young man. I can see why Michael is so proud of him."

"Will do, dude."

"Oh, and there's a herd of a dozen feral cattle just over the next ridge, including three cows with young calves. That should help solve your milk problem."

"Awesome, dude. Good seeing you again."

But Locke was already gone.

Hugo walked back to where Walt and Sawyer stood waiting for him. "Locke says hey," he told them.

"So, what did the Ghost of Christmas Past tell you?" Sawyer asked, as they started walking again.

"Cows," Hugo answered. "Over the next ridge."

Then Walt stopped at the place where Hugo had seen Locke, and knelt to the ground. "No way," he whispered, pressing his fingers against the ground.

"What is it?" Sawyer said, squatting down beside him.

Walt just pointed. In the soft ground were the faint but distinct tracks of wheelchair tires.

"Son of a bitch," Sawyer muttered.

**

* * *

**

November 4, 2016

It had taken weeks, and more money than Sawyer would have suspected Walt had, but they were finally ready to set sail. Getting the paperwork in order for the freighter to leave port of Oakland had been relatively simple. Obtaining approval for all of the people they were bringing with them had been far trickier. But at last, they were ready to go.

Naturally there was a last-minute snag.

"I'm sorry, Mr. LaFleur," the man in the FRMC office told him. "We need to review the relocation applications before we can allow you to transport these people out of state."

Sawyer sighed. "And how long will that take?"

"We're currently backlogged about four weeks," the man said with a perfectly straight face.

Sawyer rolled his eyes. He'd learned how to deal with the Federal Relocation Management Corporation. The FRMC was a consortium of private companies that held a contract with the Federal government to manage the relocation process for the millions of refugees in California. Somehow, they'd managed to rig the contract so that the longer it took to do the job, the more money they made. The FRMC's management had little incentive to streamline the process.

The people who did the actual work, on the other hand, were open to persuasion. "Look, I've got forty-two people ready to go," Sawyer said. "Half of them kids. All of them have new homes waiting for them. Surely there's some way we could expedite this?"

"There is," the man said. "There's an administration fee, of course..."

"Of course," Sawyer said. "How much?"

"Five hundred dollars."

Sawyer said nothing, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"For each application," the man added.

It was less than Sawyer had feared. Five hundred dollars now bought what twenty had just a few years before. He pulled a thick wad of bills out of his pocket, and handed it to the man. "Keep the change," he said.

A smile crossed the face of the man on the other side of the desk. "I'll get right on it, then."

Sawyer handed the man a stack of papers; the man began entering data into a computer. Sawyer glanced over his shoulder at Walt and nodded. The man probably realized that half of the supporting documentation for each application was forged, but he wasn't paid enough to care about that.

It took a while for the man to go through the entire stack of papers. Every minute or so, the printer spat out another travel authorization. Those papers would save a lot of unwelcome attention from the security guards that patrolled the docks. Walt and Sawyer might have been able to bribe their way past the guards as well, but it would have been much more expensive. It was one of the unwritten rules of life under the emergency government of California: The men with guns _always_ charged more.

After a few minutes, Sawyer got up and went over to stand beside Walt, who was watching a television in one corner of the office. The screen showed a news broadcast of a riot in a relocation camp somewhere near Sacramento.

"Glad to be out of that," Sawyer said softly. Walt nodded.

The camera zoomed in on a woman being wrestled to the ground by a pair of armed guards. Sawyer suddenly felt as if a giant hand was crushing his chest. "Son of a bitch!" he hissed under his breath.

The woman on the screen was Kate Austin.

Walt grabbed his arm. "Sawyer, no."

"You saw her!" Sawyer whispered back.

"We can't," Walt said. "All of the travel authorizations are dated today. We can't hold the boat for you. It's now or never. If you go looking for her..."

"I know," Sawyer said. His face was a mask of stone. "Damn it, I know."

"The kids need you, man," Walt whispered back. "You can't leave them."

"Damn it, Walt, _I know_."

"Mr. LaFleur?" The man behind the desk waved the completed paperwork at him. "You're all free to go."

"Thanks," Sawyer said, taking the stack from him, still keeping his face expressionless.

He took one last look at the television screen, and then turned to Walt. "Let's go," he said. "Let's put this place behind us."

**

* * *

**

December 30, 2016

"The critical question is, can they get here?"

The house they were meeting in had once belonged to Ben Linus. Somehow, even though Ben still lived in it, it had become "Hugo's house". He didn't mind terribly much, though. Hugo, he had begun to understand, was ageless in the same way Richard Alpert once had been; this would be "Hugo's house" long after Ben was gone and forgotten. He'd refused Hugo's offer to make him immortal as well, and had no regrets about it.

Now he'd called a meeting to discuss the potential threat that the DHARMA Initiative posed to them. Hugo, Sawyer, Walt and Eloise were gathered in his former living room, and they each considered the question he had asked.

"I can keep the Island hidden from _most_ people," Hugo said. "But not everyone."

"On the other hand," Eloise Hawking put in, "there are very few people who have the ability to find this island by any means except accident. And most of them are already on the Island. Walt's efforts to locate all of the people with, as he says, _special_ powers had the fortunate side effect of depriving the Initiative of most of its potential guides."

"Lucky," Sawyer said.

"Lucky?" Hugo repeated. "Dude, give me a little credit here. That was part of the plan."

Sawyer gave Hugo a surprised look. "Okay, then, good thinking, Chief. We solved that problem."

"Not completely," Walt added. "We didn't get _all_ of them."

"No, not quite." Eloise thought for a moment. "I know of three living people off the Island who could possibly lead the DHARMA Initiative to it. If any of them cooperated..." She left the implication hanging in the air.

"So, who do we need to worry about?" Sawyer asked.

"First, and probably the one of least concern, Richard Alpert."

"I don't think there's any power on earth that could convince Richard to come back here," Sawyer said.

"Precisely," Eloise said. "Richard is much too strong to succumb to any pressure they might put on him, and the Initiative has nothing they could use as leverage against him. That is not the case, however, with Desmond Hume."

Ben gave a thoughtful nod. "He has a wife. And a son."

"And a daughter," Eloise added. "Almost four years old now."

"Really? I didn't know that," Ben said. "Good for him."

"And if the Initiative managed to get hold of one of them, threaten them to make him do what they want..." Sawyer began.

"I pity the man who tries," Ben said. "Desmond is fiercely protective of his family. I know that from personal experience."

"Really?" Sawyer stared at him.

"Well, James, let's just say you weren't the first person ever to break my nose," Ben said with a wry tone in his voice.

"The thing is, Desmond knows how to keep himself and his family out of sight," Eloise said. "Unless Desmond gets careless, the Initiative will have trouble locating him."

"A mistake he made once," Ben added. "I doubt he'll make it twice."

Eloise nodded. "And anybody who could locate Desmond would almost certainly have the power to find the Island themselves."

"Meaning, they wouldn't need Desmond in the first place," Sawyer said. "Neat. So who's number three?"

"Miles Straume," Eloise said.

"Miles..." Sawyer began. He frowned.

"You know Mr. Straume better than any of us, James," Eloise said.

Sawyer nodded. "Yeah, I guess so." He seemed to weigh his words carefully before continuing. "And I have to tell you... I don't know. Miles is a good guy, but he can be bought."

"He also left this island carrying approximately eight million dollars in diamonds," Ben observed.

"Yeah, and he gave half a million dollars' worth to me and Kate," Sawyer said. "Look where I wound up. A lot of millionaires went broke the last few years. Who's to say Miles has anything left?" He frowned. "I don't know. Given the right combination of carrot and stick... Yeah, Miles might sell us out. Maybe."

"There's also the possibility," Eloise added, "that there is another potential guide who I don't know about."

They all digested that for a moment. Then Sawyer spoke up. "We need more information." He pounded a fist on the coffee table. "We need to know how many of them there are, what their plans are, what their timetable is. Everything else is just guesswork until we know more."

Hugo nodded slowly. "So, dude, what's the plan?"

Sawyer took a deep breath, and then said, "I have to go back."

"Back to where?"

"Guam," Sawyer said. "And I'll need a couple of others to go with me."


	5. Enter Seventy–Seven

_Note: This chapter includes a revised version of another story, "Enter Seventy-Seven", that I wrote in 2009._

**Chapter 5  
****December 31, 2016**

Hugo made his way through the jungle along what had once been the road to the Swan station. About a quarter of a mile from it, he turned and followed a narrow trail into the underbrush. A hundred yards later, he found Sawyer, sitting on a log and drinking from a bottle of whiskey.

"Dude," Hugo said. "I sort of thought I might find you here."

"Hey, Hugo," Sawyer said in a hoarse voice.

"You okay, dude?"

Sawyer considered the question for a moment. "Hell, I don't know," he finally admitted.

Hugo looked down at a shallow depression in the ground. It was the spot where Sawyer had buried Juliet, years before.

"Why did it have to happen?" Sawyer demanded.

"Uh, what?"

"Juliet dying," Sawyer said. "Locke, damn him to hell, was always going on about everything happening for a reason. Well, what was it?"

"Dude, Locke was wrong," Hugo said.

Sawyer gave him an evil glare, but Hugo went on. "Jacob wasn't God, dude. Neither am I. Not everything is part of some big plan. Sometimes what happens just... happens."

"Great," Sawyer snarled. "So she died for nothing."

"No, not for nothing," Hugo said. "She was trying to help us."

"She was trying to help _Jack_."

Hugo walked over to Sawyer and put a hand on his shoulder. "Sawyer, I know this is rough for you," he said. "But I'm worried about you being out here alone, dude."

Sawyer took another drink, and then said, "Don't worry, I'm not going to do anything crazy. I'm just... remembering, that's all."

"Want to talk about it?"

"Just remembering another New Year's Eve, ten years ago." Sawyer snorted. "Or forty, depending on how you count them. Whatever." Another pull on bottle, and then he added, "Anyway, it was the last one I spent with Juliet."

"What happened?"

"Nothing much," Sawyer admitted. "Just... a good memory."

**

* * *

**

December 31, 1976

Sawyer came home to the smell of ham and sweet potatoes cooking. He smiled, thanking whatever was in charge of this island that it was Juliet's turn to cook. Over the past couple of years, Sawyer had about learned how to produce an edible meal, but Juliet was far better at it than he was.

"I'm home!" he called out.

"Did you get the wine?" Juliet answered from the kitchen.

"I got it," Sawyer said, heading into the kitchen, where Juliet stood at the stove. He put the bottle down on the kitchen counter and gave Juliet a hug from behind.

"Hi!" Juliet said, smiling. She glanced at the bottle, and then frowned a bit. "Wish we could get something a little better than Dharma Zinfandel for tonight, but..."

"What's wrong with it?" Sawyer asked. "I kind of like it."

"Yes, my dear, but you know nothing about wine," Juliet said, turning around to kiss him.

"Yeah, I'll admit to that," Sawyer said. "Is everyone coming?"

"I haven't heard from Miles yet, but Daniel and Jin said they'd be here."

"Better go change, then," Sawyer said. "Back in a minute."

In the bedroom, Sawyer pulled off the khaki coveralls that identified him as "LaFleur". He'd been using the name so long now, it felt almost as natural to him as "Sawyer". Of course, that wasn't his real name either. But he'd left "James Ford" behind a long time ago.

He found a pair of blue jeans and a Hawaiian shirt in the closet – that was as dressed up as he ever got, and besides, it was only going to be friends visiting tonight.

He wandered back out to the living room as the doorbell rang. "Come on in!" he called.

Jin opened the door, holding up a white loose-leaf binder. "Hi, James," he said (his English having improved dramatically during the past couple of years.) "I got the plans from the Arrow."

"Great," Sawyer answered. "Just put them on the table, I'll look at them tomorrow."

Daniel Faraday wandered in just behind Jin, and looked around blankly. "Hi Dan!" Sawyer said.

"Oh," Faraday said, looking startled. "Uh, hi, Sawyer."

"Don't call me that," Sawyer snapped, even though he knew it would do no good. Faraday never remembered. He was scheduled to leave on the next submarine for a new assignment off-Island, and as far as Sawyer was concerned, it couldn't happen soon enough. He liked Faraday, but worried that he might blow their cover.

"Sorry," Faraday said. "Oh, hi, Juliet," he added, as Juliet came into the living room.

"Hi guys," she said back. "How's it going?"

"Okay," Jin said. "Clutch on van number 4 is running a bit rough, but it can wait until Monday."

"Good, because I am off duty for the weekend," Juliet said. When she spied the binder, she said, "And so are you, James. Don't you dare open that thing until Monday!"

"Okay, okay," Sawyer said, laughing.

Daniel eyed the binder. "Flame Security?" he read.

"Yeah, Horace has the boys at the Arrow designing a new security setup for the Flame," Sawyer said. "These are the scripts for Chang's videos."

"Plan is, we wire up the basement with dynamite," Jin added. "If Hostiles attack, the operators can blow the whole thing up."

"C-4 would be safer," Daniel said. "More stable than dynamite."

"Yeah, I know that, Professor," Sawyer replied testily. "But dynamite is what we have to work with. If the boys in Guam ever ship us some C-4, we'll upgrade."

"They must do it eventually," Juliet said. "By the time Locke blew up the Flame in 2004, it was booby-trapped with C-4."

"Huh," Sawyer said. Then a grin spread across his face. "Makes me tempted to record the videos myself. Imagine what old Baldy would do if he saw my face on the screen, and I said, 'Hey Locke, you dumb son of a bitch, don't blow the place up!'"

"Uh, Sawyer, I don't think that's such a good..." Faraday began.

"Yeah, yeah, I know that," Sawyer snapped back.

"Besides, it's Locke," Juliet added. "If you told him not to do it, he'd probably go right ahead and do it."

Sawyer laughed. "Yeah, that would be just like him, wouldn't it?"

"What would be like who?" Miles Straume asked as he walked in the front door.

"Locke blowing up the Flame," Jin said. "Hi, Miles."

"Oh yeah," Miles said, shaking his head. "He sure liked blowing things up, didn't he?"

"You're late, Miles," Sawyer said.

"Yeah, sorry," Miles answered, not looking very sorry. "I was trying to get Rosie to meet me later."

"Yeah, good luck with that," Sawyer said. "I hear she's got a waiting list."

"You think –" Jin began. "You think, maybe this year, Locke brings back the others?"

"Hell, I don't know," Sawyer said.

"For all we know, they return to the Island in 2005," Daniel added. "If they go back at all."

"Cheerful thought," Juliet said.

"Well, maybe this will cheer everyone up," Miles said. "Maybe I didn't score with Rosie, but I did manage to snag a bottle of champagne." He held up a large bottle.

"Good work," Sawyer said, looking at the label. "Son of a bitch! It's Dom Perignon, not DHARMA Initiative!"

"Yeah, took me some work to get it," Miles said.

"Let's save it for after dinner," Juliet said. "Who's hungry?"

Dinner was, by unanimous acclamation, a smashing success. Sawyer's only regret was that they would have no leftovers to eat the following day. Afterward, they gathered in the living room to talk some more. Miles popped the cork and poured champagne for everyone.

"Here's to Nineteen Seventy-Six," Miles said, raising his glass.

"A good year," Juliet said, smiling at Sawyer.

Sawyer laughed. "Best year of my life," he said, grinning. Then his expression turned serious. "And the worst."

"Huh?" Miles said, confused.

"Seventy-six was the year my parents died," Sawyer said softly.

"I'm sorry," Juliet said, taking his hand.

"It was a long time ago," Sawyer said. "I mean, it was last August, but – oh, hell, you know what I mean."

Faraday nodded. "It gets confusing sometimes," he said. "Past, present, future – hard to be sure what's what."

"Did you ever think about sending your parents a message?" Miles asked. "Maybe you could have stopped it."

"Lots of times," Sawyer admitted.

"That wouldn't..." Faraday began.

Sawyer cut him off. "Yeah, I know, it wouldn't have worked," he said. "Besides..."

He was silent for a moment, and then said, "There's something Locke said to me once. Didn't make much sense to me at the time, but it does now." He stared at his champagne glass, and said, "Locke said that he needed the pain that he'd been through in order to get to where he was now. If I hadn't gone through everything I've experienced – well, I wouldn't be here now, would I?"

Juliet leaned close to him. "I'm glad you're here now," she said.

Sawyer smiled. "Me too," he whispered.

Juliet looked thoughtful for a moment, and then said, "There have been times when I've tried to think of a message I could leave for myself, some way to warn myself… But I never could figure out a way to send a message that I'd understand and that nobody else would find." She shook her head. "Even if I tried, well, obviously, I never found it."

Faraday nodded, staring off into space, "You can't change the past," he said. "Even when it's in the future. What happens, happens."

"Besides," Juliet said, "I'm where I want to be now."

"Well, here's to a new year anyway," Jin said, draining his glass.

"Exit Seventy-six, stage right," Miles quipped. "Enter Seventy-seven."

"I'll drink to that," Sawyer said.

A minute later, he said, "Wait a minute." He grabbed the white binder, picked up a pen, and made a note inside it.

"What's that all about?" Miles asked.

"Changing Dr. Chang's script," Sawyer said. "Sending a message into the future. A message nobody will understand, but still." He grinned. "Call it my own private joke on Locke. The code to destroy the Flame will be to enter '77'."

Everyone laughed, and Sawyer refilled their glasses.

Jin drained his, and then said, "I have to go. I promised Horace I'd help him out with something."

"What's that?" Sawyer said.

"It's a secret," Jin said, winking. "You'll see."

"Okay, then," Sawyer said. "Happy New Year, Jin."

As Jin vanished into the blackness of the tropical night, another figure peeked into the door. "Hey Miles, you in there?" Rosie asked.

Miles' face lit up. "Hey, Rosie," he said. "What happened, Phil stand you up?"

"Nah, he got boring," Rosie said. "Want to come by my place for a bit?"

Miles stood, grinning ear to ear, and said, "See you guys later."

"Want your champagne bottle back?" Sawyer asked, grinning.

"Nah," Miles said, winking. "I have another one."

Sawyer laughed. "Get the hell out of my house, you son of a bitch," he joked.

"I probably should go too," Faraday said. "You two enjoy your New Year."

"Goodnight, Daniel," Juliet said, closing the door behind him.

Sawyer smiled at Juliet. "Hmm, just the two of us," he said.

Juliet smiled back. "Come on out to the porch for a moment," she said.

"But it's almost midnight," Sawyer protested, glancing meaningfully towards the bedroom.

"Just for a few minutes," Juliet said.

On the porch, Juliet put her arms around Sawyer and said, "Did I ever tell you I love you?"

"You might have mentioned it, yeah," Sawyer said, and bent down to kiss her.

Just then the clock on their mantle started striking the hour. "Happy New Year," Sawyer whispered.

Juliet grinned. "Look up in the sky," she said.

"What?" Sawyer asked.

"That surprise Horace and Jin were working on," Juliet said. "You should be able to see it just about..."

There was a loud bang, and a bright flash.

"...now," Juliet finished.

Sawyer looked up at the fireworks in the Island sky, smiling. "Son of a bitch," he said softly. "I always did like those things."

"Happy New Year, James," Juliet said.

They went back into the house.

**

* * *

**

December 31, 2016

"Dude, it's getting dark," Hugo said.

"Yeah, well, you'll have to drag me back to the barracks," Sawyer answered. "I'm not going anywhere."

"All right, Sawyer, have it your way." Hugo turned to go.

But Sawyer called after him, "Hugo? Did Juliet ever... talk to you?"

Hugo turned back. "Once," he said, with a sad look in his eyes. "A long time ago."

"What did she say?"

"She said, if I ever saw you again, to tell you... She'll wait for you."

"Wait for me," Sawyer said. He closed his eyes. "What did she mean by that?"

"It means she'll be there for you," Hugo said. "The next time around."

"Am I supposed to understand what that means?"

"Not really," Hugo said. "Just... trust, dude. She'll be there."

Sawyer opened his eyes again; he was clearly fighting off tears. "Any way you can talk to her now?"

Hugo shook his head. "It doesn't work that way, dude," he said. "She has to come to me."

"Oh." Sawyer looked disappointed. "You sure?"

"Dude, I've tried to get them to come to me when I need to talk," Hugo said. "But the one person I really want to see again... She's never come. She's already moved on."

"Oh." Sawyer's face twisted into a mask of pain. "Sorry."

Hugo shrugged. "No worries, man. I've learned to get on with my life. Just... one day at a time, right?"

"Right," Sawyer said, not looking convinced. He took another long drink from the bottle.

"Dude, you sure you want to stay out here?"

"I'm good," Sawyer said. "You go on back and have a good time with everyone else."

"Okay, then. I'll send Walt out in the morning to scrape your sorry drunk ass off the ground."

Sawyer laughed. "Okay, Chief."

As Hugo turned to go again, Sawyer called out, "And Hugo? Happy New Year, man."

Hugo smiled. "Happy New Year, dude."

He vanished into the shadows of the jungle.


	6. Author's Note

_**Author's note**_

Due to recent events, I'm going to be putting this story aside for a bit. For those of you who have already read and reviewed it, I'd like to explain why.

I had intended for the next chapter to include a flashback that dealt with the disaster that destroyed Los Angeles. I imagined that disaster to be an extremely powerful earthquake that caused a catastrophic meltdown at a nuclear power plant. When I dreamed up that scenario, it was still science fiction. I started writing my next chapter last week. I was about half finished when I heard about the earthquake in Japan. Since then, as the news from Japan has gone from bad to worse, I've been unable to continue writing this story.

I do intend to get back to this story in a few weeks, once I've had time to think it over. When I do, I'll probably take it in a slightly different direction. Until then, thanks for all of the encouraging comments.


End file.
